


From Panic to Peace

by Kivea



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Bad Parenting, Comfort, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, Panic Attacks, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivea/pseuds/Kivea
Summary: Tweek is left outside the therapists office having to figure out getting home alone after his usual ride cancels on him. He's determined to do it, positive that he can, just because he had a particularlyintensesession shouldn't mean anything, right?When Kenny rings to ask if he wants to hang out, he decides maybe a little help wouldn't be a bad thing.
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	From Panic to Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambercreek95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambercreek95/gifts).



> It's rated mature because it's a scene to go with my ongoing chapter fic, which is explicit. It felt weird tagging this any lower when I know the other half of this story is NOT PG13.
> 
> But, for those who don't want to read nasty smut, u don't need to. This fic goes with Chapter 9, where Kenny asks Kyle to help him find a way to speak to Tweek without Craig's constant present. Kyle succeeds, and Craig asks Tweek to find his own way home after therapy, giving Kenny a chance to hang out with him alone.

Tweek stared down at the phone as the call was ended, grinding his teeth as he did so. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at it but it felt like too long. Too long to just stand around going nothing. He was going to start looking _suspicious_ , loitering in the reception area, like some kind of _weirdo_ who just got out of _therapy._

“Tweek?” 

His head snapped up, spinning round to look at the receptionist with wide eyes. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine!” he insisted, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “I’m - yeah, whatever, I’m gonna – I'm gonna go.” 

"Alright, we’ll see you next week?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured as he began to back away for the door. “Next week.” 

He let out a shaky breath as he finally got outside. His phone was still clutched in his hand, and he was entirely unsurprised to see no one waiting outside for him. 

He let out a long, drawn out groan of frustration. 

It wasn’t the first time Craig hadn’t been free to pick him up. Sometimes he was at work, because Craig worked shifts, but usually he was kind of aware of those times. He could steel himself before a session and remind himself that no matter what happened, Craig wouldn’t be able to pick him up. On the rare occasion that Craig was still unavailable despite not being at work, he would suggest that Tweek went straight to his apartment, and usually tell him on the first call. 

Calling him up a second time because something had come up and then _not_ suggesting Tweek met him somewhere? Out of character. Unusual. Very suspicious. 

His first response was to panic. One, about Craig, because what kind of dramatic circumstance had ‘come up’ that Craig felt the need to call on him. No explanation. No hint of what it was. Was it something family related? Tweek was half tempted to call Tricia and ask if she was alright. That was his first thought of some kind of ‘something come up’ said so casually. If there was an emergency with his sister, Craig would probably be willing to drop all his plans, but would do so in that _devil may care_ way that the Tucker siblings always treat each other. 

But that would be silly. He couldn’t badger her, if he called her demanding to know what had happened that Craig couldn’t pick him up from therapy she might suggest Craig get him first, and he would never forgive himself for that. That, and last time he and Craig spent a prolonged period of time in Tricia’s company, it was incredibly awkward. 

No, no he just had to trust Craig. He had to trust that Craig had a perfectly valid reason for cancelling without explanation, and he had to trust that the laid-back way he said it meant that it was important to Craig, but not a big deal to Tweek. Tweek could respect that. Craig had his own life. 

Two, in the panic wheel, was himself. 

Yeah, okay, it wasn’t like he was totally inept. He had got home from therapy before, many, many times. It wasn’t like he called Craig _every week_ , he only did when a session was particularly intense, like today, so he knew logistically how to do it, but... 

One time, he had broken down in a fit of tears on the bus that only lasted ten seconds, and it was so _mortifying_ that he hadn’t actually got on that service since, just in case he bumped into the bus driver who had given him a look that was a mixture of concern and distrust when he left. No, no, he wasn’t getting on a bus home. 

Which meant he would walk, which was normal, but what if he _broke down on his walk_? What, did he just duck behind a bush and hope it passed quickly and no one noticed? Christ, he remembered when an old lady on the bus had turned to him and asked him if he was okay and he did _not_ need anyone drawing attention to his mood swings, thank you very much. It’s very nice of you to ask, little old lady, but please don’t. 

He sucked in a breath, steeling his nerves, and reminding himself that while he now wasn’t loitering in the reception hall he _was_ loitering on the doorstep and the receptionist could probably _still see him_ so he really needed to do something. 

He could _totally_ do this. This was a thing that was completely doable. He was an adult. He was a competent, experienced adult. He had been an adult for several years quite successfully. If he could handle the lunch rush in the restaurant he worked at, he could handle walking home from therapy. 

He started walking, turned a corner, and went head first into a man holding two coffees. 

He gave a startled yelp, looked up to see the man staring down at him with raised brows, confirming that no amount of headphones had blocked out the _hellish_ noise that Tweek had made. 

Before the man could even open his mouth to ask if Tweek was okay, the blonde spun on his heel and decided to take the scenic route home. 

Maybe he should just beeline for Craig’s apartment. If Craig was dealing with Tricia, it wouldn’t be at home, because he hated taking her anywhere near where she could embarrass him, so he just wouldn’t answer the door, and if he was home then he could _at least offer Tweek shelter_ in his room after fucking _ditching him on the doorstep of the therapist._

Okay, maybe he was a little pissed, but could you really blame him?! 

He thought about calling Clyde, but Clyde was...not always the most emotionally available, which he thought was rich for him to say considering he usually relied on Craig. But it was true. Craig was used to him, had years of practice, and was mostly quiet. Clyde would do two things based on his mood: try desperately hard to be _so supportive_ , or get _way distracted_ talking about something that Tweek didn’t care about, and just over stimulate him. 

He thought about Craig’s other suggestion; Token. He was the more attractive of the two choices. He was calmer, and while he did try hard to be supportive he at least picked up on Tweek’s habits and expressions to try guide him in the right direction. He also didn’t get offended when Tweek told him to _back off_ or _shut up_ when it was becoming too much. Rather, he seemed actively pleased when Tweek gave him harsh directions, because at least it was some kind of guide to what he should do. 

Token. He should ring Token. Ring Token, and tell the man to talk him through some breathing exercises, because he was pretty sure he’d managed to work himself up to close to a panic attack just thinking about _Clyde_ trying to help him. 

When he withdrew his phone, like fate itself graced him with an answer, it began to ring. 

He stared down wide eyed at the contact. It wasn’t unusual for the person in question to reach out to him. They spoke, they were friends, it was nice. But the timing was so... 

His finger hovered over the decline button. He hesitated. 

Here was the thing, about Kenny McCormick. Kenny reminded him a lot of Clyde in some ways. The pair shared the same sense of humour, and they did get on incredibly well sometimes. But Kenny was pretty laid-back, more like Token, in a casual, comfortable way. A lot of people made Tweek nervous, especially when he first met them, but Kenny? 

Kenny had this aura about him that just put you at ease. Kenny was one of the few people that didn’t set Tweek’s anxiety off when they’d first made introductions, and instead Tweek found him incredibly comfortable to talk to. Those kinds of people were precious, and while Tweek sometimes worried he was going to scare Kenny off, for once it was because he actively wanted Kenny to like him, not just his usual generally anxiety about people. 

He hit the answer button.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, dude, I hope now’s not a bad time, but I was wondering if you were free to hang out?” Kenny’s voice was a little like a warm drink, that soothed his brain as soon as he heard it. 

Was now a bad time? 

Tweek couldn’t tell. Jesus, it was sort of a bad time, because he had been about to ring Token, but... 

“No, it’s - I mean, a little bit, but you might be able to help.” 

“Of course, whatever you need. What’s up?” 

“I...” 

How did he even put it into _words_ when he didn’t even know what it was? 

“I just finished therapy,” he started, speaking much slower than his brain was thinking. “And I guess I just...” 

A silence spanned across them while Kenny waited for the end of the sentence. 

Tweek didn’t _know_ what the end of the sentence _was._

“Do you want some company?” 

“Yes!” Tweek latched onto the thought. “I do. That’d be great.” 

“Sure, what do you wanna do?” 

“I...?” 

Again, Kenny waited a few beats for an answer, before he spoke. “We could meet at a café and get a drink. Is there one near where you have therapy, or should we make it the one round the corner from the apartment block?” 

“Not round the corner,” Tweek shivered at the thought of people he _knew_ looking at him and watching him in this state. If he had a meltdown, he’d never be able to show his face there again. “There’s one near here.” 

“I’ll meet you there, then. Just text me the name and I’ll head over now.” 

“Right, okay, I can do that.” 

“See you soon, Tweek.” 

He let out a breath with a smile. “Yeah, see you.” 

He was quick to text the address once he had hung up the phone, and started the walk to the café. Slowly, taking care as he turned corners, and not really wanting to turn up super early compared to Kenny. Sure, it wasn’t a far walk, but it was far enough of a difference that he’d get there at least twenty minutes before Kenny did, if the blonde didn’t get the bus. 

With company secured, and a destination in mind, the panic began to subside, and instead made room for his next entirely unwelcome emotion: anger. 

Because really, who the _fuck_ did Craig think he was just fucking dropping Tweek when the blonde was standing on the edge of a cliff? Without any explanation? The idea of just respecting Craig’s decision was thrown out the window and instead replaced with _an entirely justified_ sense of injustice. 

Tweek never would keep something like that from Craig, and Craig _knew_ how delicate Tweek could be after therapy. He also never did this? Ever? And he knew how Tweek felt about _change_ and _things that were new and entirely different_ so why he couldn’t take five fucking minutes to just tell him what had come up was dumb. 

Craig was dumb. Craig was always so _dumb_. 

He made Tweek panic about his sister, for fucks sake! When he saw the man he was going to give him an earful and demand to know what it was that took up Craig’s attention not _five seconds_ after he _agreed to get Tweek._ Not that Tweek felt like he should be more important, but it was still incredibly suspicious that it happened in such a short space of time. 

That dumb, stupid, fucker was going to get an earful of Tweek’s rage and it would be entirely deserved. 

He was practically out of breath when he arrived at the café, feeling like he had enough energy to run all the way to wherever the hell Craig was and punch him square in the jaw. He withdrew his phone again to check the time and- 

Oh. Oh, maybe he had got a little carried away in his anger. 

His efforts to draw the five minute walk out over a longer time was shattered. He must’ve power walked all the way there as he’d arrived in two minutes. That was... 

Not ideal. 

He groaned as he reminded himself that he was supposed to be trusting Craig that whatever it was that had taken up his time was important to him, but maybe not so important to Tweek, and that was okay. 

His therapist had spoken to him about this. This co-dependency that he and Craig had. It was something he tried not to think about too hard because if he did then he’d want to talk to Craig about it, and talking to Craig about anything that actually involved Craig’s emotions was like trying to draw blood from a stone. 

The guy was full of so much repression that sometimes Tweek wondered if he wasn’t actually a robot, programmed to avoid deep, invested emotional discussions so as not to draw suspicion to his lack of emotional response to trauma. If he was going to make a robot and then send them in as a spy amongst humans, he would definitely programme it to react to complicated human emotions in such a manner, so it made sense that _if_ Craig was a robot, whoever programmed him did the same. 

It would probably be Kevin. Kevin struck him as the kind of guy who would make a robot with the intention of gathering data about other people to co-ordinate some kind of wicked scheme of replacing human civilisation, the way his face would turn up in distain when ‘normies’ tried to talk to him about the new Star Trek movies. 

Maybe Kevin was also a robot, though. Maybe that’s why they kind of reminded him of each other. 

Where was he? Oh, right, yeah, being fucking pissed off at his loser ex-boyfriend. 

No, no that wasn’t where he was, he’d gotten over that bit, he was at the – the conversation with the therapist about his mildly unhealthy co-dependency and – no, then he was starting to get pissed off at Craig again. Yup, definitely still angry. 

“Tweek!” 

He snapped his head up, eyes wide as he searched for whoever was calling for him. 

They landed on Kenny pretty quickly. He scrambled for his phone, concerned about how long he’d been thinking about Craig and Kevin being undercover robots and what kind of data they were attempting to collect from people in their apartment block, only to see he’d been standing outside of the café for five minutes. 

“You got here fast.” 

Maybe not the nicest greeting, but Kenny didn’t seem to mind. 

“Yeah,” the blonde shrugged, and Tweek noted that he was also a little out of breath. “I struck lucky with the buses, I guess. And then, also, I ran from the bus stop.” 

“You didn’t have to do that!” Tweek insisted. “I didn’t mind waiting!” 

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” 

Just the act of smiling made Tweek’s anger subside, just a little bit. 

Kenny looked up at the café. “This is cute, I’m glad you picked this one. C’mon, I’m thirsty after running all that way.” 

“I never _told_ you to run.” 

The café was cute, Tweek would agree with that. Kenny insisted that Tweek pick a table and leave the ordering to him, and Tweek honestly didn’t argue that hard. The idea of avoiding speaking to a barista was appealing. He picked somewhere nice and out the way compared to the rest of the people in there, a bar that lined the back wall, two stools on the very end unoccupied. Sure, it wouldn’t have a very good view of staring at the wooden feature and various art pieces that lined it, but it also meant that in the now slightly more unlikely event that he burst into tears for a solid ten seconds, no one would see. Except Kenny. 

“Here you go,” Kenny slid his drink onto the bar. “One milk tea.” 

“Thanks,” Tweek let out a small sigh of relief as he wrapped his hands round the warm cup. “Fuck, that’s nice.” 

“It is,” Kenny agreed as he settled onto his stool. “So, tell me if I’m stepping out of line, but I’ve never really helped you with...anything after therapy, so just let me know, if there’s anything you need me to do, yeah?” 

The way he tiptoed around it, trying to be delicate, reminded Tweek of Clyde, but in a good way. A less pushy way. 

“I will, I – I might get a little snappy, but-?” 

“That’s fine.” 

“Thanks.” 

They settled into silence as they took the first sips of their drinks, and then... 

They continued to sit in silence. 

Tweek began to panic. 

“I’m sorry, you wanted to hang out but I’m not really saying anything and-?” 

“You don’t have to say anything, dude. Don’t force yourself. I’m happy just enjoying my drink,” Kenny assured with that leisurely smile. “If you want noise, I can chat though?” 

Tweek paused for a moment. 

Clyde always made him overstimulated when he went on about absolutely _asinine shit_ that Tweek didn’t care about. Would Kenny be offended if he refused to listen? 

He risked it. He shook his head. 

“Cool,” Kenny relaxed back in his seat. “Blissful peace it is.” 

Blissful peace was a good way to put it. 

Tweek didn’t say anything for some time, and Kenny seemed to take his lead. It wasn’t until he was half way through his tea that he deigned to say anything to Kenny. Kenny, sweet, patient Kenny. 

“Thanks for coming out to meet me.” 

“Thanks for agreeing to hang out, even after therapy,” Kenny countered. “I hope it wasn’t too stressful for you.” 

“It wasn’t...” Tweek grimaced. “It wasn’t exactly easy. Some sessions are harder than others. It’s - I don’t wanna bog you down with my shit, man.” 

“You’re not bogging me down. I don’t mind if you wanna talk about it.” 

Tweek hesitated. 

“But don’t feel like you have to. You don’t owe me an explanation.” 

“I don’t mind talking about it. I just hate the idea of making people feel uncomfortable,” he explained. “Like, I find it hard to tell when I should and shouldn’t talk sometimes so I don’t wanna weird anyone out being spilling my guts at a way inappropriate time.” 

“I’d say now’s an appropriate time.” 

Tweek sunk into his seat as he turned his eyes to his coffee cup. “My therapist tries not to overwhelm me too much sometimes I think but we occasionally have to talk about my parents, and it’s not – they're not the worst parents in the world, probably,” maybe. “But they weren’t great either, so they can be pretty heavy sessions.” 

“That makes sense. I’m glad I called you when I did then. 

_Yeah, me too._

“Parents can be a pretty difficult topic. Like, I love mine, but that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed off for some of the shit they did growing up.” 

“Ugh, I know,” Tweek agreed. “There’s this weird obligation but also I hate it. It doesn’t help that I see his name literally everywhere.” 

Kenny furrowed his brows at this. 

“I - Tweek isn’t my like, my real name,” Tweek admitted with a grimace. “It stuck, because my friends called me it growing up, and I kept it.” 

“I always thought it was weird that you referred to yourself as Tweek _Tweak_ ,” Kenny admitted. “What is your real name, then?” 

“Richard,” Tweek pulled a face as he said it. “I have my dad’s name.” 

“Oh, _ouch_ ,” Kenny gave a smile somewhere between amused and sympathetic. “Remind me never to call you that, then.” 

“I will, because if you do, I will punch you square in the jaw.” 

Kenny gave a laugh, melodic and calming, and Tweek found himself relaxing more into the chair. 

“Are your parents...?” 

“Eh, they fight a lot,” Kenny explained with a shrug. “Like, drunken fighting, because I’m very white trash.” 

Tweek snorted. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Fuck you,” Kenny responded with a toothy smile. “I’ve come a long way from being super trash, I have like, a stable job and an apartment and shit. I make _rent_.” 

“Yeah, but compared to Token...” 

“Compared to Token _you’re_ white trash too!” Kenny argued. “Compared to Token, he says, like that wouldn’t be the same for literally all of us.” 

Tweek laughed, covering his mouth as he snorted. 

He didn’t register how little he was thinking of Craig. Didn’t really register anything as he continued to talk to Kenny, letting the conversation just flow. He appreciated how much Kenny was willing to just listen to his ramblings, interrupting only with the occasional teasing, letting Tweek know he was listening. 

He didn’t really register anything until the conversation slowed down, Kenny finishing the last of his drink, Tweek’s empty long ago. He watched his friend as he did so, and against thought of how calming the other man was. 

They finally decided to call it there, leaving the café and walking back to their apartment block together. The fresh air was nice, and Tweek felt like the walk was needed. 

“I’m glad you agreed to hang out with me,” Kenny said as they closed in on the flats. 

“It’s fine, man, it’s - I enjoyed it.” 

“Good,” Kenny turned to look at him, and Tweek took a moment to wonder when they stopped walking. “I like hanging out with you, too. We should do it more often.” 

Tweek felt a rush of embarrassment coarse through him. He took a moment to take stock of how Kenny wasn’t actually that much taller than him. A few inches, maybe? “Sure, man, we can. I don’t mind.” 

“I’ll catch you later, Tweek.” 

He watched as the other blonde opened the front door to the apartments, startling as he realised Kenny was holding the door for him. The blonde disappeared off up the stairs towards where his own apartment was, leaving Tweek on the ground floor where his was. 

He moved slowly, thoughts drifting about, and by the time he made it back to his flat he collapsed onto the couch, taking chance to have a nap. 

He didn’t remember about heading up to find Craig to chew the man out about ditching him. He honestly wasn’t sure he was that upset about it anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it Amber!! And I hope this makes you feel a little bit better after I ABANDONED Tweek in the Cryle fic 😘✨😘


End file.
